


Robert Gray

by Writer_Trash



Category: IT (2017), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Angst, I wasn't aware I was such a terrible person, but here we are, im so sorry, like real angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-16
Updated: 2017-10-16
Packaged: 2019-01-18 05:04:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,408
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12381459
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Writer_Trash/pseuds/Writer_Trash
Summary: Set in the late 1700s or something, a short oneshot on how the creature IT could have become Pennywise the Dancing Clown. Based on My-Gunpowder's Tumblr post that broke what was left of my heart and inspired this monster, enjoy!





	Robert Gray

**Author's Note:**

> I am so sorry for writing this hell spawn, prepare to hurt. Inspired by this post: https://my-gunpowder.tumblr.com/post/166403511042/what-if-what-if-it-actually-stole-this-form-from-a
> 
> "What if IT actually stole this form from a real person whose name was Pennywise. This kid was born with the disease hydrocephalus and strabismus. He was given by parents to the circus of freaks because of his appearance. And there he began working as a clown. He loved children and dreamed to have a family. But there was no girl who would like to marry him. Only work brought him joy.  
> But then IT has come…."

Whispers and murmurs bounced from person to person, all centering around a likeminded subject. The focus of their attentions was the odd looking, yet cheery circus clown who'd taken up the monicker of Pennywise. Pennywise the Dancing Clown, specifically. He certainly wasn't the greatest dancer, but ever since he was a little boy he'd found the idea of dancing appealing, captivating, even. Some other performers for the circus were dancers, he'd even watch them practice occasionally. 

Late into the night, even after everyone else had fallen asleep he would sometimes cover himself with blankets and, from the glow of single lantern, draw and sketch the fluid movement of the dancers. He would have preferred to detail his thoughts in the form of writing, but the spellings and words came slowly, sometimes not at all. So instead he would draw whenever given the opportunity, he'd even become quite skilled at it.

Dance wasn't the only thing that had occupied the yellowed pages though, his wishes and his dreams were all engraved in ink and charcoal as well, even if he knew that the closest he'd ever be to seeing them come to fruition was in the lines of his small, leather bound journal. 

A house on the hillside. A wife. The family he so desperately desired, but well aware he wouldn't have. Himself, not as he was, but how he wanted to be, handsome and well spoken, a man who had went to the finest schools and could take care of himself and the ones he loved. Even his mother and father, not his true parents of course, the ones who'd believed him a freak and abandoned him. No, good parents who would have raised him and loved him, who would have taken him to the circus to have fun and laugh, and not to give him away out of disgust.

He'd adored that journal, although on one unfortunate night a group of other performers had stopped him to harass him. They would normally rifle through his pockets and take any coins or nicknacks he'd collected, even sometimes leaving him with cuts and bruises. And thus it was the find of the century when they pulled out the little brown book and flipped through its pages despite his struggling.

They'd mocked and jeered, waving the book just beyond his reach. It continued to escalate until finally they had dragged him to The Well and dangled it over the emptiness. He'd cried and begged, but it was only met with mocking laughter and the sound of the journal knocking against the walls of the well, echoing as it fell. He stayed there long into daybreak, curled up against the rocks and sobbed. Pennywise didn't draw anymore after that.

With time that grief turned into a dull ache, allowing him to continue his work. In actuality his work helped him, when he was able to make the occasional child laugh it brightened up his entire day.

"Hello, mister clown!"

Pennywise looked down to see a chipped tooth little girl staring up at him in wonder, a bright smile adorning her face.

"Hi there!' He replied with a smile equal to hers. 'I'm Pennywise, the dancing clown." He bowed to her in a flourished way, making the tiny bells on his costume jingle. She giggled at that, bringing her hands up to her face.

"Do you like the circus? There's peanuts and treats, lots of fun, huh?' The girl nodded in agreement. 'Hey, wanna see a trick?" Kneeling, he reached behind the girls ear, then pulled back to reveal a shiny penny. The girls eyes widened with delight as he went to hand it to her, but right as she took it from him she was roughly yanked away from him and behind her father. 

"What the hell do you think you're doing, you freak?" Snapped the father, his voice loud and cruel, drawing the attention of others who either looked on in sad silence or carried the same disgust.

"I-I jus-"

"You just what, huh? Just wanted to creep around like you do?" Practically fuming, he grabbed the penny from his daughter and threw it at the clown, making the girl cry and earn a smack from the man.

"Don't cry over that thing, he doesn't deserve it." Pennywise wasn't sure whether to punch the bastard in the face or just curl up and hope to disappear. But considering that he wasn't a violent man, and also that magic wasn't real, he just decided to run.

The tears were already falling as he ran from the crowd, his feet carrying him to a secluded place, one that, if he'd been in his right mind, he likely would not have gone. The Well.

Collapsing down with his back against the well, he could only sob. He pulled his knees in and stayed there, his whole body trembling. It seemed like hours before the tears dried up, his thoughts finally clearing a little. His inner dialogue was still loud, but what he heard next overpowered it all.

"Hi, Robert Gray."

He snapped his head up to confront the voice but found himself alone. Robert Gray... he hadn't heard his own name in so long is was almost as if it belong to someone other than himself. But that was the least of his concerns.

"Hello?" 

"Yes! Hello, hey, hi... You're not looking too cheery there, Bobby boy. Why?" Robert remained silent, shaking slightly at the voice that seemed to come from every direction at once. Had he gone crazy?

"No, bud, not crazy." A chill went up his spine, something about the voice was wrong, on the surface it was calm, pleasant, even, but something dark lurked beneath the surface, something that made him uneasy.

"Listen here, if you're feeling brave, why dontcha turn around? You'll get a surprise, Bobby." He wanted to run, he wanted to run as fast as he could and not dare look behind him towards the well. And yet, he couldn't, he had to know, he just had to.

Slowly, he turned his head to see what it was, and as he thought he would, he regretted it. Pitch black, it's skin like oil, shifting and moving. A head poked up from the edge of the well, bright yellow eyes regarding Robert with glee.

"Look at you, braver than I thought." He was unable to move, his legs frozen in fear. "I said you'd get a surprise, didn't I? Well I keep my word, don't you worry." It slowly brought up a claw tipped hand, far too large, and gripped between It's thumb and forefinger was-

"Looky, Bobby boy, you dropped something here, remember? I found it floating in the water." He gasped and took an uncontrolled step forward, almost tempted to reach out for what It held but stopped himself short of actually doing it. -His journal, there it was! The little leather book that had been wrongfully taken from him, and the one he missed so dearly.

"What a nice book...' The creature said thoughtfully, examining it. 'Don't you want it back?"

"Yes!" Replied Robert without missing a beat.

"Then here. Take it." The creature extended It's arm to him, beckoning him closer. As much as he wanted it back, a small part of rationality kept him in his place. It took notice of his hesitation.

"Take it, Bobby." It insisted, It's voice almost a hiss. They both knew. Robert wouldn't be able to live with himself if he left it behind, it was so painfully clear.

Against all reason, he reached out to reclaim his journal. The creatures gradually pulled It's arm back, his journal with it. Finally, in an action spawned from agitation, Robert quickly stepped forwards in an attempt to snatch it away. At this It grinned, It's maw opening to show rows and rows of sharp fangs. It sprang, other hand shooting out to grab Robert and drag him into the well.

At the very last moment he managed to cling to the edge, the rocks digging through his gloves and into his hands. This was nothing compared to the claws that dug into his legs, however, creating white hot pain.

"SOMEONE HELP ME! PLEASE!" He screamed, tears running down his face as his grip faltered. He cried out for help until the very end, when he could no longer hold on, and then, silence.

 

The true Robert Gray was no more.


End file.
